The Boy Who Lived, Too
by greenleaf-in-bloom
Summary: Harry is 25, and he discovers strange connections between himself and an orphaned infant. Sirius lived AU.


Harry grimaced and tried again to focus on the pain in his scar. It was hard; his whole brain fought against it, and he felt Voldemort's hatred and terrible pleasure like a tickling in the back of his head. He gave up for a moment, and stared across his dark, nearly-empty room. A bed, a chair, candles, a fireplace, and his wizarding supplies. That was all.  
  
Moonlight streaked his hair, illuminating things that had not been there when he had graduated from Hogwarts five years ago. A deep scar on his cheek, a twist in his smile, when he did smile. He thought about it. He really didn't smile much. It brought back feelings from before, and before was a bad time.  
  
He focused again, and this time got a directional sense. Voldemort's laugh made his skull vibrate, even though he was miles away.  
  
He tried to remember when it hadn't been this way, before Voldemort had connected them in another way than the scar. He stared at the dirty window- glass. It was hard.he remembered laughing with Sirius the day his innocence had been proven. He remembered a snowball fight with Ron and Hermione and Ginny.he remembered a soft laugh and a smile from a dream of Cedric, his friend Cedric.and then he remembered Charlie Weasley leaping between Voldemort and Harry as a blinding flash of blue light issued from Voldemort's wand, and Charlie's agonized scream as his skin burned. He remembered in detail the way he had run to Charlie's side and put out the fire before it could consume more than just his hands and wrists, and then how he had slowly looked up at Voldemort and the smile that had spread across the Dark Lord's face.  
  
Then he remembered blackness.but now was not the time for this.  
  
He stood from the corner and hefted the broomstick that had been lying across his knees. There was a cracked mirror across the room, and for an instant he saw a man named James Potter in the Mirror of Erised. It fled quickly, leaving Harry to stare at his ghostly-white skin and the red band around his neck that made an invisible string between the Boy Who Lived and the Dark Lord.  
  
Voldemort inspected the woman cowering against the wall. She reminded him very much of Lily Potter in the way that she stood before her child. The child also reminded him of that night, and that which he did not want to remember. The child reminded him of the boy.  
  
The baby's eyes were wide and fixed on the still, slumped form of the man in the corner, his father. The woman did not scream, but whimpered, and gasped breaths of air. Her wand lay forgotten by her feet, by the child. Was it on purpose, this similarity? Was it planned?  
  
"Give me the boy," he said lazily, "and I won't kill you."  
  
The woman gaped in terror. "You - you - no, no, please don't take him, please don't turn him. Please take me instead. He's a child, a child.please, leave him alone."  
  
"I've done this before, and I am not afraid to kill you," he told her. She cried out and shivered, but she did not stop sheltering the baby. She sank before him on the floor. "And you will not achieve what Lily Potter did. I don't want to kill the child. I just want him. Better for you to live, so that I can tell him when he grows up how his mother wanted him to be what he will be."  
  
"My Lord," came a whisper, and men came in behind him. Draco Malfoy and his father, and Francisco Avery. It was Draco who had spoken, and he glanced with regret toward Avery. "My Lord, can we assist you?"  
  
"Take the child, Draco. And be quick about it."  
  
Draco smiled coldly and approached the little boy and the woman. The woman grasped his arm and tried to hold him back. She was unsucessful. He scooped up the child and held him carefully still. The baby did not squirm.  
  
"And Lucius, rid me of this filth," he said, turning on his heel. The woman gasped. Voldemort turned back to her with a look of mock regret. "I said I wouldn't kill you," he laughed. Lucius stepped forward and did his task. The little child drew back from the bright green light.  
  
Voldemort turned suddenly back around. There had been a soft sound from behind him, but there was no one there. The feeling in his head was unmistakeable, though. "Hello, Harry," he hissed. "Come to join the party?"  
  
Draco Malfoy spun around. His father did too, more slowly, and Avery. "Potter?" Draco whispered. "You couldn't save the woman, and we don't want to kill the child. You slipped up this time."  
  
"My friend Draco is right," Voldemort said. Draco heard a quiet swish from near the Dark Lord - "My Lord, he's -" - and Harry pulled the cloak off. His wand was pointed straight at Voldemort.  
  
Still holding the child, Draco leapt over to his Lord's side and fumbled for his wand, but even as he did, his father shouted the Killing Curse. In Lucius' urgency he was a bit off, and it shot toward Draco, who jumped back, dropping the child. The curse hit the little child, who cried out, and Harry caught the boy with the hand already holding his broomstick. Lucius didn't have a chance to scream as he hit the floor, dead.  
  
"Checkmate," Harry whispered. Voldemort's eyes filled with hate. He couldn't go for his wand. Draco was lying winded and half-senseless on the floor where he had thrown himself backwards, and his eyes were confused and hateful as he stared at his father's body. And Voldemort was between the other Death Eater and Harry. "I should kill you."  
  
"Suicide," the Dark Lord sneered. "It's not checkmate. It's stalemate. Neither of us can win. The connection, Harry."  
  
"Then you can't kill me, either."  
  
"We don't have to kill you."  
  
Harry twitched, and without warning threw his cloak over him, his broom, and the baby. Wind whipped around the Death Eaters and their Dark Lord as Harry flew out the window, tossing a hex back through the window to Draco.  
  
Voldemort hissed. "They got the child," he hissed. "He killed Lucius. You will take his place as my first, Draco. We must hurry. Things have changed since Wormtail left. It has gone wrong."  
  
Harry shook his head, and Lupin sighed. "It would be so much easier if we could get in touch with Dumbledore now," he groaned. "We need to tell him we have the baby."  
  
"I couldn't save the parents," Harry murmered, rocking the child in his lap. "I was too late."  
  
"You knew it would happen," his old teacher reminded him, looking stern. He shook his head back, and the graying hair was back out of his eyes again. "Ron predicted it. You know you couldn't have done anything. And Ron's always right."  
  
"I know, but." Harry shook his head. "You're right, of course. I'd better go. I need to talk to Ginny and Hermione."  
  
"What's the child's name?"  
  
Harry smiled, remembering the twist in his mouth and ignoring it. "I found the birth records before I left, because we knew. His name is James Christopher, and he was born on March twenty-fifth."  
  
"James?" Lupin's voice was strangled and dry, but he recovered quickly.  
  
"Yeah. Goodbye - I'll call on you later - tomorrow morning, probably."  
  
"Just remember not to call me on Wednesday. It's the full moon."  
  
"All right."  
  
Harry watched his fireplace return to normal and threw more of the powder into it. "Ginny!" he called. "Ginny, are you there?"  
  
"Harry?" Ginny's face appeared in the fire, looking hopeful. "Oh, thank goodness. I meant to talk to you later - did you get the baby?"  
  
"Yes," Harry told her. "I got him - I was too late to save the parents, though. And Lucius Malfoy's dead - rebounded curse. I think I hexed Draco Malfoy pretty well, too."  
  
"You do everything pretty well," Ginny laughed, and blew him a kiss. "Hermione's here - do you want to talk to her too?"  
  
"Yes. She'll record what happened, of course. You can read it then - I'm sorry, I really don't want to tell it twice."  
  
"That's okay. I'm going up to bed now, but call us day after tomorrow, okay?"  
  
"I could always Apperate over then."  
  
"That would be great. It's been a week or two." Her face grew solemn. "How's Sirius?"  
  
"I haven't seen him in person, but I had a breif conversation with him a few hours ago. He's all right, I suppose. Sick out of his mind with worry, but all right. You know how much he hates my going after Voldemort."  
  
"But you save people's lives!"  
  
"He thinks I'm going to end up dying. Actually, I found something out. If I die, he does, and vice versa. This is a problem. I might take Dumbledore up on his offer after all."  
  
"I don't understand why you didn't in the first place!"  
  
"Well, I want to be able to track where he is."  
  
"You already know where he's going to be and when. You know. Ron sees most of it, and you interpret it. You don't need the connection. There's something else about it that you want to keep, whether you admit it or not. Get rid of it. Tell Hermione, and then go talk to Dumbledore right away. Apperate to him. Something."  
  
"He's at Hogwarts, I can't. And now he's blocked off outside Floo connections too, even with his passwords on it. There are Death Eater children in the school. But it's weird, this boy is. Exactly the same thing happened to him as did to me, except Voldemort wanted him alive, not dead, and he doesn't have to live with the Dursleys. He.I think I'm going to take him in."  
  
"But Harry, you're always chasing Voldemort! What are you going to do, take him along?"  
  
"Hermione and you can babysit."  
  
"Oh, you're hopeless," Ginny sighed. "Talk to Hermione. I'm glad you're taking him in, Harry. Good-bye."  
  
"Bye."  
  
Harry sighed and stared at the fireplace, holding the powder in one hand and little James in the other. Undecided, he glanced down at the sleeping child and the slash on his forehead. It was exactly the same, he knew as his had looked. He then realized he had been blocking out Voldemort's emotions and wondered if James could feel what he could. Part of it, anyway.  
  
He tossed the handful of powder in the fire with another sigh and called Sirius' name. His godfather's anxious face appeared at once.  
  
"Harry!" he cried. "God, I was hoping you'd call me. Are you all right? Did you get the baby?"  
  
"Yes and yes," Harry said, supressing the weariness in his face and voice. "I'm fine, he's.well."  
  
"Did they try to kill him? They did get the parents, I know."  
  
"They wanted him alive, but the little guy caught a Killing Curse aimed toward me. Curse was a warning, it wasn't aimed right at me. He's got the scar too. Poor kid."  
  
"Why wasn't it aimed at you?"  
  
"The connection connects more than our emotions. I have to get it removed."  
  
"Are you crazy?" Sirius exploded. "If the connection keeps him from killing you, or anyone else from killing you, keep it on!"  
  
"But then I can't kill him."  
  
"You - Harry -"  
  
"If I can't kill him, how many more children are going to end up like him?" Harry sighed. "Sirius, it's more than just me. Killing him is what I was born to do. All these years.it's what I'm made for. If I die with him."  
  
Sirius gritted his teeth and held back his fury. He landed on a new topic. "What's the kid's name?"  
  
"James," Harry said softly, and rocked the child again. It stirred fretfully and cried out suddenly. Its eyes opened and saw Harry, and it threw its hand up, touching its forehead. Then slowly, the little boy reached up and tugged at a lock of Harry's unkempt hair.  
  
Sirius' expression was slightly softened. "I've got to go, Harry," he said, looking around behind him. "Call me tomorrow. Or come over."  
  
"I'm going to Ginny and Ron and Hermione's place. You come over there. I have to go, too. I need to send Loren to Dumbledore."  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
Sirius vanished. Harry glanced at Loren, the owl Sirius had given him three years ago when Hedwig had died. The small barn owl hooted for the first time since she had flown in, about five minutes after Harry had returned.  
  
Harry took out his quill and began to scribble a note.  
  
"It's not that bad, really," Harry said, and sighed. "Hermione, will you leave the poor kid alone? Trust me, I know what a curse scar like that feels like."  
  
"I trust you to be stubborn, that's about it," Hermione sighed, and offered James to Harry. "There you go. Well, he does have strange eyes." Harry peered at them; they were a pale blue, like the sky on a winter day without clouds. "No family resemblance, Harry, I'm sorry. I mean, that hair.girls will fall all over him when he gets older."  
  
"Will they?" Harry asked. "It doesn't look too remarkable. And it'll change, get lighter."  
  
"No, not this hair. I'll charm it to stay the same if I have to. Let me memorize that color." She stared intently at the sleeping boy's golden hair, too fine to snarl. Ginny laughed and came over from the table, where she'd been flipping through a magazine.  
  
"Ooooh, heis adorable," she sighed. Harry smiled and pretended to pout. "Oh, you -" Ginny laughed harder. Her hair was done into a long, red-gold untidy braid down her back.  
  
"You should cut your hair, Gin," Hermione remarked. Hers had gradually become less bushy and more silky-smooth since their school years, and was generally done in a short ponytail. Ginny stopped laughing and looked horrified at this suggestion.  
  
"What?" she demanded. "My hair? Never! I haven't actually cut my hair since sixth year!" She laughed again. Hermione snorted and continued staring at James.  
  
"I think her hair is fine," Harry said defensively. Ginny grinned at him and rested her head for a moment against his shoulder. He had gotten very tall and slender, his form clearly defined, his fingers long and thin and precise, his face almost gaunt, his shoulders sharp. Ginny raised her head and glared at Hermione.  
  
"Herm, you don't have a crush on the poor kid, do you?"  
  
Hermione indignantly opened her mouth, and a strange giggle escaped. "You.psycho. oh, Ginny!"  
  
"Well, you're looking at him the way you used to look at - ow! That hurt!"  
  
"You deserved it," Hermione said, blushing furiously. "You really deserved it."  
  
"It's just a bit of - oh, Ron's on his way." Ginny had turned to the gems above the fireplace, each containing a lock of hair. Ron's was glowing the eerie pale-green that meant he was traveling.  
  
"We'll have to get a gem for James," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Oh, dear - Harry, Ron was out last night, he doesn't know about James yet. Let me get my report on it - hang on -"  
  
Ron appeared in the middle of them, looking exhausted. "Oh, Harry," he said with a sigh. "I already heard what happened. Met Sirius down Diagon Alley while I was looking for a new book that Dennister just came out with."  
  
"Oh, all right. You all right, Ron? You look tired."  
  
"I am. My crystal ball has been going crazy. It's been showing me all sorts of signs that I don't have recorded anywhere. Nonsense, the lot of it. There's too much interruption. I need a new crystal."  
  
"Did you get the book you were looking for?" Hermione asked. Ron nodded, and looked at James. "Can I hold him, Harry?"  
  
"Of course," Harry said, gingerly passing the child to Ron. Ron grinned at him. "Cute little bugger. Can he talk yet?"  
  
"Only a few words," Harry said, grinning. "That I've heard, at least."  
  
James opened his eyes sleepily. "Hare," he proclaimed. "Harr-a-y."  
  
Ron laughed. "Been working on him, huh?"  
  
Harry looked sheepish, but had no chance to reply before Sirius appeared across the room. "Harry!" his godfather exclaimed, hurrying over to him. "How are you?"  
  
"I'm good," Harry said. "James has finally learned my name. James, this is Padfoot. Padfoot. How are things at the Ministry, Sirius?"  
  
"All right, I suppose," Sirius sighed. "Moody's getting to be a bit of a problem. He's got this talisman that recognizes people, and he's been making everyone touch it to make sure they aren't imposters."  
  
"Pah - hoot," James said suddenly.  
  
"My, he's a bright fellow," Sirius said, tilting his head to look at the little form in Ron's arms. Ron was examining his palm. "Gods, Ron, are you already reading his future?"  
  
Ron grinned.  
  
"And I'm Ron," Ron said in a quiet voice to the baby. "Ron. Ron, Ron, Ron." He pointed to himself. "Ron. Can you say Ron? Ron?"  
  
"Rah."  
  
"Good enough," Ron shrugged. Hermione giggled.  
  
"Give him here," Sirius insisted. Ron pretended to pout, but handed him over.  
  
"Pah - hoot," James repeated. "Pah - hoot."  
  
"Padfoot," Sirius inisited.  
  
"Harr - a - y." James said suddenly, stretching out his arms toward the named party. Harry looked startled.  
  
Sirius handed the child back to Harry, and James giggled and tugged at a lock of dark, untidy hair. "Har - ry. Harry."  
  
"He learns fast," Ginny said, impressed.  
  
Sirius smiled faintly, looking thoughtful. "He seems to like you, Harry. He seems to be attatched to you somehow."  
  
"Through the hair," Harry suggested wryly. "He keeps touching the hair."  
  
"The Hair," Ginny said dramatically. "THE hair. Come on, pass him around again."  
  
"Poor kid isn't a bottle of wine," Sirius said, accepting James as Harry handed him back.  
  
"No, but he is cute," Ron said.  
  
"Rah!" James laughed. "Rah!"  
  
"Padfoot," Sirius said solemnly. "I am Padfoot."  
  
"Transform, Sirius. He'll remember you more distinctly then."  
  
"No," Sirius said stubbornly. "Won't. Padfoot. James, I am Padfoot and you will address me as such."  
  
"Pad - hoot?" James asked, looking puzzled and tilting his head slightly.  
  
"Foot!"  
  
"Foot!" James repeated happily. This seemed to be a word he knew. "Foot!" He raised his hands into the air. Harry laughed out loud. Sirius grinned, too.  
  
"Who am I, then?" Sirius asked roguishly.  
  
"Foot!" James cried loudly, and tugged a lock of Sirius' long hair. "Foot! Foot!"  
  
Sirius tried to look wounded and failed. He shook his head and handed the boy to Ron. Over the sounds of Ron trying to teach James how to say his name, Sirius leaned over to talk into Harry's ear.  
  
"You know what you used to call me?" he asked.  
  
"What?" Harry asked, still grinning and eyeing Ron's failures amusedly.  
  
"Black." Sirius smiled slightly, tilting his head.  
  
"What?!" Harry and Hermione laughed at the same time.  
  
"Well, right about when you were learning to talk - Lily and James had already got you recognizing colors and that kind of thing, and you could say 'Da' and 'Mama' and 'Woom' for Peter and 'Moony', but you wouldn't learn Padfoot. So anyway, they brought you to a party, and everyone was there, and I was holding you because - because James had had too much to drink," he grinned at the memory a bit sadly, "and Snape was there. And he came over with Dumbledore, and he, of course, called me 'Black' just as I called him 'Snape', and you looked up at me big-eyed and said suddenly, 'Black!'. James was a bit annoyed at Snape, of course, but Lily couldn't stop laughing."  
  
Harry nodded quietly. Hermione glanced at him sideways, then at Sirius, who ruffled Harry's hair. "Your mother was like that," he added. "She was always smiling."  
  
"Remus found me another picture the other day," Harry sighed. "He'd been looking through some of his things and found it in a secret drawer. I brought it here - you know what my place is like. Accio!" He didn't use his wand. Summoning was one of his strengths, and he knew the workings of the spell well enough to do it without a wand.  
  
The picture flew over, slowing as it neared Harry. He pushed a lock of hair out of his face as he stared at it a moment. Ginny and Ron fell quiet, looking over at him. Ginny, who was now holding James, passed him silently to Ron and came over next to Harry, laying a hand on his shoulder but looking at Sirius. The older man's face was suddenly worn and the lines in his face more defined.  
  
Harry looked up from the picture, eyes bright, and turned it around so Sirius and the rest could see it. Sirius gasped almost noiselessly. "Oh, God," Hermione said. "Oh, Harry."  
  
The picture was colored and moving. Remus was grinning widely, holding a giggling Harry, dressed in a violent orange outfit. There were Halloween decorations in the background in front of the house - Godric's Hollow. Lily, however, was looking at three figures next to Remus. An enormous black dog was tugging at Remus' robes with large teeth. And then there was the stag, head turned to look at his friends and his family, silvery-grey eyes very clearly visible in the picture.  
  
But perhaps the most defined part of the picture was the grey rat who seemed to be climbing the stag's prongs.  
  
It looked like a normal Halloween gathering. It didn't look the way you would think that a picture from that day would be. The way you would think that a picture taken only four hours before the laughing red-haired woman and the stag died would look. Four hours after the picture was taken, two of the picture's happy inhabitants would be dead, one would be a murderous traitor, one would be framed in the traitor's place, and one would be alone in the world.  
  
The other would be an orphan hero with a great destiny.  
  
How could a picture like that look so plain? 


End file.
